Stolen Moments
by Aqualad
Summary: Gambit's youth as seen through entries in Bella Donna's diary. Mild violence; some romance. From DH Brooks, the author of "A Legacy Of The Pacific," from Cedar Grove Books.
1. Default Chapter

STOLEN MOMENTS  
  
by Daria  
  
[Marvel disclosure: All X-Men characters are the property of Marvel Comics; all rights reserved. This is a work of fan-fiction. No permission was granted to use these characters. This story may not be reprinted or published without written permission of the author and may not be used for profit of any kind.]  
  
My Diary  
  
by Bella Donna Boudreaux  
  
March 19, 1994  
  
Dear Diary:  
  
I'm sure tired! The last two days have been exhausting, what with preparing for Cousin Josephina's wedding and then attending it yesterday. By the time I finally got to bed last evening I was bone-tired, but I had trouble to sleep because my cousin done give me a piece of her wedding cake wrapped in linen to put under my pillow, for to see the face of my future husband in my dreams that night. Damn thing made me so uncomfortable that I tossed and turned my head on top of it all night and don't remember dreaming at all. Right then and there I knew I'd spend the whole day sleepwalking.  
  
This is St. Joseph's Day, so there's Italian flags and decoration all over the Piazza D' Italia and other parts of New Orleans. I heard music everywhere while I was walking around after school, but then there's always music in the French Quarter, naturally. That's just the kind of town it is. I'm glad that my grandfather keeps the house in town so that I can go to school and shop in the city, but it ain't half as nice there as it is way out here in Cajun Country along the bayou. There's a lot of violence in the Big Easy sure enough, and I almost ended up being caught in it this afternoon. But then *HE* came along! *kiss*  
  
I was strolling along the patio walkway after stopping for one of them good ol' vanilla creme cones on the Vieux Carre on my way home after leaving St. Francis of Asissi School today. *Go Friars!* I would have been along sooner, but that ol' Sister Anne done made me stay late and dust her dang chalk erasers and clean her board on account of she caught me trading notes with Marie Broussard. She was telling me about how her older sister, Angeline, had two boys fighting to take her to the Cotillion Ball. I can't wait until I make sixteen and my Grandpapa presents me at Cotillion too. I'll get me one of them pretty dresses with a big hoop skirt and four yards of silk frills and have my hair all done up in curls and ribbons. Heck, I'm only eleven; sixteen is like one hundred years from now! *frown*  
  
Now I know that old nun got eyes in the back of her veil, but I did it anyway---I wrote a note asking Marie which boy Angeline picked. I just had to know, seeing as I was surprised she'd get any boys asking after her, her not being the prettiest thing around and all. ANYWAY, forget that now--- this is the good part. Well, the good part is coming up! Some men pulled up behind me in a big black limousine car and jumped out. I was figuring on that they was stopping to pick up something from one of the restaurants--- there's a lot of delivery doors along the alleyway---but one of them tried to grab me and I could see that the other had a gun in a holster around his upper arm because his coat blew up with the wind. I was just about to hit the first guy in his manhood, and then God sent an ANGEL down to me!  
  
I looked up when the sun was suddenly blocked, and yonder came flying downward this ANGEL---serious as a heart attack! He had long, reddish brown hair and red eyes---yeah, RED, I said!---and his big, loose, white shirt was flying up all around him. I thought I saw wings, but I expect it was his shirt tails flying, really. With the sun shining down on him, he looked just like that stained glass window in the church of St. Michael, head full of rock star beautiful flowing hair, coming down out of Heaven with his gleaming sword held high above his head. My angel was SO pretty, just like that, and he was holding a weapon, too, but I think it was a hammer or a crowbar, not a shiny sword. Don't matter---it was just as dreamy!  
  
It all happened so fast! The angel leveled them two bag guys with a couple of swift blows; next thing they knew, they was flat on the ground. Then he grabbed my hand and said, "Run, cherie! I'll cover you!" Well I'll tell you right now that I wasn't running nowhere until I'd made them two mugs sorry they'd messed with me, so I kicked them both good in a place they'll remember for a long time to come. Then I told that angel, "I can take care of myself!" But he took my hand in his and we run as fast as we could. Before we knew it, we was in Jackson Square and hiding behind the oleander bushes.  
  
Aaaaiiiiiieeeeee---I tell you, that's when I got a chance to really LOOK at my angel, yeah! And you know what, Diary? That weren't no St. Michael type angel, no! It was a boy just as flesh and blood as me! The boy said his name is "Remy;" that's a fine and handsome name for a hero. After all, there's a Saint by the name of Remy, and this boy sure looked like he was Heaven-sent when the sun was shining on his pretty hair as he jumped down off of that rooftop to help me!  
  
I expect that if anyone else was to look at Remy, they wouldn't be thinking "angel from Heaven," what with them eyes he's got! More like they'd be thinking that he's the son of the Devil himself. Them eyes are so weird! Red-red-red and black all around. Real strange-looking eyes they are, but for some reason they didn't scare me like you'd figure they would. And once I got used to them and talked to him for a while, I found out that Remy sure is nice and a gentleman, too, in a messy little boy sort of way. Kind of sweet, you know? He ain't got a home or folks or nothing; that's why he knows the alley so well: he lives there. No mama, no papa...and he's real poor. He didn't even have socks on with his shoes, and that shirt of his had holes in it and was about three sizes too big. It was easy to see without looking too hard where he'd been wiping his dirty hands. Child says he gets his clothes out of the church collection barrels, that's when they don't frighten him off because of his eyes. I sure feel sorry for him, and there he was feeling sorry for me and trying to rescue me. 'Course boys think girls can't take care of themselves, but my family is the premier clan of the Guild Of Assassins and I live with my dear Gran'pere, Marius Boudreaux---the Patriarch of the family and of the Guild---so you bet I can protect myself. Always have been able to, since back when I was just a bitsy girl.  
  
So we were sitting in the park under a big old tree, and do you know that boy started holding my hand without so much as a by your leave?! Fresh! I let him do it, though, because he was trying to be nice, and he sure was brave to help me out like that. Then he tried to kiss me too, you know---so I whacked him on the head with my Geography book and told him if he didn't put those lips away I'd feed them to him! He got all bashful and begged me to forgive him, though, so I told him it was all right. After all, what red- blooded son of Acadie wouldn't want to kiss a "jolie blond" blue eyed girl like me? Must be a million Cajun waltzes written about just that subject. Besides, I kind of thought it was kind of cute...but I wasn't telling Monsieur Lips that or he'd have crossed the line and gotten too bold!  
  
I'm going to meet Remy in Jackson Square again tomorrow afternoon, and I'm figuring on trying to save him some of my lunch; he sure don't look like he gets much to eat, no. I could hear his stomach growling, but I tried politely to pretend I didn't. Ain't no use of embarrassing somebody who can't help his stomach asking to be fed.  
  
Well, I have to go to bed now before Gran'pere finds out I'm writing under the covers with the flashlight again. Julien, that old big-mouthed snake of a brother of mine, probably done told him already that I got a light on, on account of I can hear the old man coming up the stairs now. Julien makes me SICK! Blaaaaaaahhhhhhh! Bon nuit, mon chere Diary!  
  
May 10  
  
I've been seeing that Remy boy on the sly for weeks and weeks now. He's just as kind and sweet as he was the day he done helped me escape from them kidnappers. I've been asking Alida, our maid, to put two sandwiches in my sack for lunch. She was so funny, asking me, "Where you puttin' all dat food, li'l one?!" I tell her, "I'm a growing girl, so them sandwiches will help me to shoot up real tall real fast." Really, I eat half of one sandwich and save the whole of the other one for Remy; then I eat my other half with him when we meet down to the park in the afternoon. He didn't want to take food from me at first; I think it made him feel bad to be taking stuff off a girl. But that's just stupid, you know? When you're hungry and your belly's roaring like a tiger, you should take what's offered to you. Anyway, he finally agreed to accept the sandwiches from me, but he all the time saves one half for later that evening. It wouldn't surprise me if he's saving it for one of the other orphans he knows back in those alleys.  
  
Remy's just one of a bunch of homeless kids who hide out in the back alleys of the Warehouse District and the French Quarter, among other places. From what he tells me, though, most all the street folks he sees back there shun him on account of those eyes of his. I don't get why he'd bother to help people who don't even like him. He hides up on the rooftops, mostly, and tries to keep out of sight during the day. Like a vampire, Remy says that he only likes to come out into public at night; I guess it's just safer for him, rather than him getting into trouble because people fear his eyes. But Remy couldn't be less like a vampire if he tried: I ain't never met someone so alive with joy, fun and kindheartedness. When he's telling one of them yarns of his, he throws his whole body into it, and he tickles himself so much when he's telling a whopper that he sometimes laughs too hard to finish the tale! I don't know how he can feel lighthearted knowing that nobody wants him, but I'm glad that it don't seem to bother him too much. I don't know what I'd do if nobody took care of me or loved me like my family does. Gran'pere and my aunties always tell me how much they love me and they look after me good, yeah. Too bad Remy can't find him somebody like that, but then I figure that if his real family didn't want him, who else would? Poor thing.  
  
Oh yeah---and get this! That ol' dumb face Felice at school was shooting off her mouth again today, like she's ever got anything else to do, the old busy body! She thinks she's better than us Cajuns, talking about how her French roots go back to the 1600s in Louisiana and that her family was favored by the King Of France, unlike our people who came along in the 1750s as exiles and slaves. Merde. Got the nerve to tell me that she's got more pretty dresses than I got, too. Pah! I'm going to get Old Papa to take me shopping this weekend and buy me an even prettier frock than I've already got for Eloise Oiseau's birthday party---and that should fix her up just fine! Some nerve! Everyone knows I'm the prettiest girl in the school and got the nicest clothes, just like the grand-daughter of the Patriarch should. Some people just don't know their place.  
  
June 1  
  
I figured I'd wait awhile until I had me something really juicy to tell you, Diary! You know that little orphan boy I done told you all about--- Remy? He's gone and got himself adopted! I feel good and bad about it, though, mean as that sounds. It's good he found someone to take him in off of the streets, especially since it's so hot that you could cook an egg on the sidewalk right about now. He ain't been getting much food or water and has been looking really tired; some days I worried that he wouldn't live to show up for our next rendezvous at the park. I'm glad someone is going to be responsible for putting some decent clothes on his back and food in his belly. But he went and got adopted by the enemies of my people, the clan LeBeau of the Guild Of Thieves! In fact, he's now the son of the King Of The Thieves, Jean-Luc LeBeau! My Gran'pere all the time hated that man, and his papa, Jacques LeBeau, before him. I ain't never heard a good word for him out of Gran'papa; he says the man is only fit to destroy everything the Guilds have built up over the years. Remy sure makes his new papa sound nice, but I'd bet that a lot of that talk is down to that boy's charm; he don't like to talk bad about folks, even the ones who have hurt him.  
  
It's hard to describe, but Remy can just talk to you and make you feel so good and peaceful inside and all that it's hard to be mean to him, even for me, and I'm an Assassin! Like with Monsieur LeBeau: Remy was stealing the man's wallet when he got caught by him! Oh that boy be SO stupid sometimes! He said Monsieur LeBeau was real mad at first, but then they started in to talking and the man asked him why he was stealing, so he told him about Fagan's Mob. See, these men got them a rundown old building in the Warehouse District that's marked for storage as a cover, but their real stock in trade is that they take in orphans...so long as them kids steal stuff for them. They train them to pick pockets, shoplift and swipe anything of value they can get; in exchange, they let them sleep on the floor on mats or old blankets in the warehouse. Remy says they give them one meal a day most of the time---just a cup of some watered-down Cajun Stew and stale bread at best---and they are happy to get it, too. If the orphans don't bring back enough goods, they get thrown out until they get enough to buy their way back in, plus some rough treatment to boot. Remy won't ever admit to where they come from, but I've been seeing bruises on him all the time since I met him. The way he drops his head anytime I look at them tells me all I need to know.  
  
Anyway, Monsieur LeBeau done took pity on him and took him in, even legally adopted him and gave him his name. If you ask me, I think that man just wants him because Remy's such a clever thief already; he just wants to use him like them other men did. The Thieves are all out of their minds! They steal, but they give away all of their riches! They believe in living in poverty and are all the time praying, praying, praying...when they ain't cooking, eating, dancing, playing music and stealing the gold fillings out of your head, that is. It's more than just about religion; most folks who know about the Thieves say they're a cult of crazy people. Guess they think my family's Guild is like that too, although no one's stupid enough to say it out loud. We ain't assassins for nothing, neh? I guess all the crazy talk is one thing that fuels the feud between the Guilds. It all goes back almost 300 years---the rituals, the weird powers, the hate, the killing and the tithing to the External, the god-like being who grants those powerful "gifts" that Old Papa won't tell me all about yet. My insane, sword- wielding brother is going to be the head of our Guild when Gran'pere dies, sorry as that is to say. Julien is planning to put a hit on all of the Thieves and wipe out every last one of them when he's the leader. I don't like to think about what's going to happen when he comes up against Remy. He'll probably kill him on sight...but I don't need no brother no way and won't miss him much.  
  
Without Julien in the picture, that would make me the Matriarch and the future of the Guilds will all be up to me. I think I'll kill all of the Thieves except for Remy's papa and his brother, Henri, but that's only because Henri got himself a real pretty Harley-Davidson with flames painted on the gas tank, and does that man ever look fine in that long brown coat of his! O' ye-ya-yais, cherie!!! I'm figuring on getting him to take me for rides...once his girlfriend Mercy is dead and won't be taking up his precious time no more, that is. Lordy, I'm gonna be a caution when I get older! Ya Ya!  
  
September 7  
  
First day of school! Yuck---I hate it more and more every year! The nuns made all of us girls line up in the hallway for to measure our skirts. They took rulers in hand and swatted our backsides if the hemline was above our knees. I had to take out the roll at my waist and drop my skirt down low to avoid the penguin attack. All of them boys was laughing at us, but they got swatted on the hand if the Sisters caught them at it. Some of the boys got swatted so often that their hands looked like they'd been picking bushels of boysenberries and couldn't avoid the prickles. It was Remy's first day at school. I saw him leaning against a wall watching the nuns rip out our skirt hems while he rated our legs by flashing his notebook, Olympic style scores written in big numbers in blue ink. Before the morning was out, his hands looked like he'd been trying to climb over barbed wire.  
  
This afternoon when we caught up with each other, Remy admitted that he'd been pretty nervous all day and that he's never been so scared in his whole life. He so brave that I didn't think anything could scare him! Them nuns sure got him spooked, yeah---but then, he's got them spooked too. They made him wear dark glasses so his eyes wouldn't scare anyone; I think they were more afraid than any kid would be. Some of the smart-allecky boys were making fun of Remy all day for those glasses, as well as because he's taking some classes with the younger kids on account of he ain't had much book learning, except for what he was able to read while hiding out in the library at night. He'd tried hard to teach himself things that he figured he'd need to know about, but there's not much call for antique art and jewelry appraisal in middle school.  
  
It was bad enough that the other boys were making cracks about Remy all day, but my stupid brother caught us walking past Commander's Palace after school together and Remy just HAD to be holding my hand at the time! Julien came up and started yelling in Remy's face, like, "You stay away from my sister, thief! You ain' good enough to lick her shoes, you freak!" and all like that. Remy stayed calm and talked to him nice---like trying to charm him---but he ended up having to block some punches from Julien before long. I tried to make my brother stop, but in the end I had to beg Remy to leave me with Julien and run off for home. The last thing I remember was Julien yelling back at Remy, telling him "I'm gonna kill you if I see you 'round my sister again, chien!" Something tells me he's going straight to Gran'pere about this...and that can't be good.  
  
September 8  
  
Ain't got much to say today. I've been grounded, thanks to that low-life creep, Julien, telling Gran'pere about me and Remy. I've never seen Old Papa so mad! You know that vein that stands out on his head when he's talking about how much he hates the Thieves Guild? I swear that the vein was talking instead of Gran'pere! It got big and blue and throbbed real bad while he was yelling, and he told Julien to walk me home everyday after school to make sure I couldn't see Remy no more. *sniff* That's ok, though, because the payback is that Julien can't play football and show off for the girls no more after school, and boy is he pissed! See? Stupid people ought to keep their mouths shut, but they're too stupid to know that before showing out. Fool!  
  
September 21  
  
It's my birthday! Vive por moi! Tres bien! I was beginning to think that the day was never coming, and now it's already almost over! I got SO much to tell you, Diary!  
  
It was such a pretty day---and a good thing, too---'cause my party was out in the garden. Alida was busy all morning with hanging Japanese lanterns on the patio and cooking in the kitchen. I could smell the mirepoix for the etoufee being sauteed not long after lunch, with all the yummy chopped celery and cilantro and garlic melting away in that creamy butter from Mr. Fontaineaux' dairy. Ain't nothing smell better than that stuff, I tell you that! When I'm away and I think about home, that's what I smell in my head. We was up late shelling crawfish last night; Alida said I could help her if I wanted to. I like twisting off their heads! It's kind of gross, I guess, but it's fun! Sure takes a lot of them little mudbugs to make up a good meal, though!  
  
I had me a long, lazy bath before breakfast and planned on a big meal because I had a lot to do today all over New Orleans, yeah. By 11am, I was down to the hairdresser with Auntie Lisette, there to get my hair curled again; them sausage curls sure take forever to do. Gran'pere bought me a big, pretty blue bow to put in my hair for my party, so I took it with me to see how it would look. Very nice, I must say! From the salon, we went to have lunch at Commander's Palace and had a fancy time of it; that was Tante Lisette's big birthday surprise for me! It sure was good food, but the best part was the Bananas Foster I had for dessert! It was a wonderful treat; I'm never going to forget it. After we did that, Tantie took me to Voorhees department store so I could pick out some new dresses...AND A TRAINING BRA!!! My Annette Funicellos---that's what Tantie calls them---they've finally started to come on! I guess Gran'pere feels kind of uncomfortable about taking me for that kind of shopping, so it was fun to go with a lady to take care of me and fuss over me. I still don't think I'm going to bother with that training bra under my overalls when I'm out shooting at opossums with my slingshot, though I tried on a few bras that would make better slingshot bands than the one I've got, to be sure!  
  
The other girls started arriving at my party about 5 o'clock and filled the foyer closet with one pretty coat after another and another. We used the hall table for my gifts, and boxes of every color and size were piled high to the ceiling before long. I couldn't wait to start tearing into them, but just as I'd started pulling at a very expensive-looking bow, Alida called me and everyone else to the dining room for our supper. Dang if that woman doesn't have the worst timing!  
  
Everything was going nicely when I noticed my brother glaring at me from the verandah; then I saw him turn real fast and run off. There was some shouting and I heard other boys yelling, but Gran'pere told me to ignore it and have a good time, saying that it was probably just my brother and cousins acting crazy, as usual.  
  
Anyway, when the party was over I went upstairs and flopped on my bed, tired from all the day's goings on. Nice as it was to have all of my friends here to make me happy on my birthday, I just wanted some peace and quiet and to think about Remy, the one person I wish could have been here to help me celebrate my day. He's got a way of making me feel so special just by smiling at me; it would have really made my day just to have that smile shine on me. Suddenly, I noticed that there was something so shimmery and shiny next to my head that I almost jumped out of my bed for fear of it! And then my eyes focused on the glittering form and my heart jumped! It was a present from Remy: a beautiful jeweled necklace! Next to it was a "Happy Birthday" note written on a little piece of paper in his bad handwriting; poor thing, he never did take too good to using a pen, starting school so late and all. The note said, "Joyeux Anniversaire, mon cherie, mon amour, mon ami, mon coeur... Remy." It even had little hearts drawn on it...not drawn very well, but still, ain't that the sweetest thing? And there was the most beautiful orange rose attached to the note by a blue ribbon lined with lace. It smells so pretty that when I close my eyes and hold it to my nose I swear I could float off to Heaven on its scent. I'm going to press it between two pages here before I go to sleep and keep it forever!  
  
Everything was going fine until I showed the necklace to Gran'pere and told him that Remy gave it to me; I even told him about the day Remy and I met and how he'd protected me. I thought he'd be happy that my friend thought so much of me to have given me something that was obviously pretty expensive, plus I'd figured that Remy's gallant rescue tale would make up for whatever trash Julien had said about him. Instead, Gran'pere started screaming at me to stay away from "that no-good, thieving little freak" and said to give my necklace to him so that he would "deal with it!" Well I wouldn't do it and I ain't never going to! It's mine---Remy done give it to me---and I ain't letting anything happen to it! He give me this because he loves me. I know he stole it, and I know his papa will probably wail the heck out of him for giving it away, but it means that he really loves me, just like I love him. I got sent to my room and bought a month of extra chores for defying Old Papa, but I don't care. I hid the necklace real good and I'm not even telling you where, Diary, lest my ol' no-neck brother steal you and read about this. I'm going to wear that necklace on my wedding day, the day I marry Remy LeBeau. I'm putting the rose here now; you please to take care of it for me. 


	2. Stolen Moments pt 2

June 6, 1999  
  
Sorry I ain't had much to say for a while, dear Diary. I'm figuring that I found you on a good day for writing about, though. I can't believe it's finally here, but I'm making my debut tonight at the annual Cotillion Ball to be held inside a glittering ballroom adjacent to the historic Cabildo, over on Chartres St. I was expecting it to be an amazing and magical day, and it was for a time, but...well, let me start from scratch.  
  
I've spent the day getting ready, fussing with my hair and all, yelling at Alida to help me with this and that and talking on the phone with my cousins about their advice for me about filling out my dance card for after the presentations tonight. You got to do charity work and stuff in the year before Cotillion, to show that you got something going for you, you know? I was a volunteer up to the local hospital for awhile---wore one of them candy-striped uniforms, too---but I got tired of them folks asking me to do stuff. Some of them old ladies was more fussy than Gran'pere! I quit that and went to volunteering at the library, stuck teaching them dumb little no- nothings how to read, use the filing cards and to find books on the shelf. I thought Cotillion Day would never get here so as I could give it up. It was hard on me and Remy, on account of he and I couldn't sneak off and get together after my "walking home" by Julien after school, like we've been doing under my family's noses most afternoons. I sure miss him when I can't see him; we need each other to talk to, and it's lonely when we can't be together.  
  
After I wrapped my hair in rag-curlers, I was filing my nails when I heard something hitting my window. Sounded like little pops---tiny fireworks, I mean. When I turned to see what was going on, it looked like fireflies were flying up to the window and then exploding! One, two, three...by the fifth one, I was starting to figure out what was up, just as number five landed against one of the frames and made a pane of glass glow like a star and explode into a hundred pieces. Going to the window, I leaned out far enough to see the source of the trouble. Figures it was Remy; he was charging up bits of pea gravel between his fingertips and then tossing them at my window. Dumb boy ain't been house-broken yet, so how can I expect him to have better sense?! I waved a fist at him to get him to stop and signaled him to wait, then threw on my pink satin robe and flew down the back steps and out through the kitchen garden at the back of the house.  
  
When I finally reached him where he stood under a tree in the pastureland behind the house, I popped him upside the head with the flat of my hand. "What you want to go making noise like THAT for?!" I yelled, with every bit of my Cajun showing forth! He just grinned slyly, like that boy always does at me. "Only way I could get your attention, chere," he said, "Can't go up to your house and knock on the front door, now, can I? Your kin would carve me up and serve me with grits and eggs for breakfast." He's right, too. Things are bad enough between the Guilds at the best of times, but there's been a lot of fighting on the back streets between our people lately and things could only get worse if it were found out that the Princess Of The Assassins was keeping time with the adopted son of the Patriarch Of The Thieves. Remy's life wouldn't be worth a strand of Mardi Gras beads if we got caught together. Still, it was so good to see him that I threw my arms around him...but I pushed him back when he started into nuzzling my neck. He's starting in to growing hair on his face, but the silly thing ain't discovered the razor yet. Time his papa had a talk with him...about a lot of things, but I get the impression that Jean-Luc LeBeau's only got the use of Remy's weird powers on his mind and not much care for anything else about him.  
  
Remy handed me a little package wrapped kind of poorly in flour sack material and tied together with an old ribbon. "I brung you this for you making your debut tonight, petite," he told me as he held it out to me. "I can't be taking no more stolen presents from you, no!" I told him, thinking back to that necklace he'd given me years before that Gran'pere had such a fit over. "Ain't nothing I stole, Belle," he said, urging me to take it from his hands. "I made it all by myself---even soldered on the hinges in shop class, c'est vrie, chere,"* he assured me. "Mr. De Longpre, the shop master? He done said I done a real good job on it, too. Said it was one of the best projects anyone had ever done in one of his Shop classes. Ain't often any of them teachers pays me any mind, Belle; most of them sooner spit than to look at me. Please take it; I made it just for you."  
  
Taking it from him, I pulled the wrapping off in a hurry to see what it was; I was so fast that I guess the material went flying, causing Remy to reach out and grab it before it fell into the tall grass. And there it was, Remy's gift: a gorgeous little stained glass jewelry case with a red velvet lining. "Aw Remy, it's so beautiful!" I told him, taking the opportunity to kiss his cheek. "If I'd known you'd do that, I would have made it bigger, darlin'!" he chirped, then leaned into me for a real lip-to-lip kiss. I couldn't resist him; it was the best way to show him how much I love him--- how much I'll always love him.  
  
After a pause, most of which he spent looking at his feet, he said, "I sure wish it was me that was taking you to Cotillion tonight. Every time I think about Andre'-Michel escorting you and them other boys planning to dance with you and all, it tears me up inside. You're my girl; it ought to be me dancing with you." He makes me so mad when he talks about things like that! "It can't BE, Remy," I reminded him, "...so why are you bringing it up?" He stood there looking defiant, almost angry. "I could tell him, your grandfather," he said in his cavalier manner. "I could tell him how much I love you and ask for your hand. I'd find a way to win him over, me; you know I could do it. I can win over anybody if they give me the chance; I got a way of charming folks, if I catch them the right way, you know..."  
  
Crazy boy. He made me so mad with that talk, with him being willing to put our lives in jeopardy for something that could never work, hypnotizing folks or not. But still, I know how desperate he feels about us and how much it hurts him that we can't be together like other kids in love. I fumbled with my new jewelry box while I thought about what he'd said. "You know you can't just talk Gran'pere into giving you a chance, Remy," I reminded him. "Maybe if you didn't have those creepy-looking eyes of yours, then you could..." That's all that had to come out of my stupid mouth to make his face cloud over with hurt; I'd never seen him look so sad. I hadn't meant to insult him; heaven knows he gets enough of that from other folks. Those eyes---they almost went from glowing crimson to as black as coal at that moment, and he turned away fast when he knew I'd seen them filling up with tears.  
  
"You didn't have to say that, Belle," he said quietly...mournfully. "I know how hideous I am to everybody; ain't like I need reminding. I just thought...well, what right I got to think about being like normal folks anyways, z'huh?" His facial expression was so pained; it was difficult to watch him while my words ate away like acid at his soul. Suddenly, in Remy's hand, the cotton material and ribbon began to smolder away, growing hot white, golden and pink as they began to sizzle and spark from his internal energy being infused into them, only he didn't even seem to notice that it was happening. Finally recognizing the look of dread on my face, Remy looked down at his hand and shrugged, nonchalantly tossing the former wrapping material over his shoulder. It went off with a BOOM that ricocheted off of all of the trees, our garden shed and our barn. Sheepishly, Remy looked over his shoulder and then, turning back to me, he blinked sadly, saying, "Sorry about that, Belle. It just happens sometimes when I don't mean to do it; can't always control it so much, no. Blew up Papa's best rake a few weeks back without meaning to; he was hopping mad for days and figured I did it on purpose 'cause I didn't want to clean up the yard. But it weren't true, no; it just...happened." His head dropped ruefully, his face reflecting his sorrow at what he sometimes thinks of as a worse curse than those fiery eyes of his.  
  
"'Xpect you'd best be getting back to the house," he advised, finally resigned to the fact that we couldn't change anything about tonight. I felt so bad that I wished that the ground would have just opened up and swallowed me whole, right then and there. I tried to apologize to him, I really did, but the right words just wouldn't come out. He was already walking away, saying, "Got stuff Papa wants me to do, yeah. Have a good time at your party. I know you'll be the prettiest gal there." I wanted to reach out, to grab him and hold him to me and make him feel better...make him feel loved, but I couldn't make my feet move toward him. I love him, sure, but is that enough to risk making my family hate me and want to kill him? I just don't know.  
  
I was almost to the back door again when I heard hooting and hollering down toward the post road that intersects with our long, winding dirt drive. It was mean, vicious-sounding yelling, like one of them sick lynching parties I've heard tell of. Running upstairs, I got to my window and stuck my body out as far as I could, trying to get a look down the lane. By that time, I could also hear engines revving up and what sounded like the cracking of a whip tearing at the air. Grabbing my jeans and one of Julien's old flannel shirts off the clothesline, I pulled them on and ran toward the road as fast as my legs could go. Suspecting the worst, I checked my back pocket for my switchblade before I got too far from the house. What I saw on the other side of the road drained the color from my cheeks.  
  
Across the post road in a field of reeds, tall grasses and pampas stands an ancient mirliton tree that's just forward of a grove of pecan trees. Having been there since the Earth cooled, it has a wide, high trunk...and that's where I saw Remy. He was trussed up by rope, face forward with his bare chest flat against the trunk of the tree, his arms behind his back, bound at his wrists. Tied so unmercifully tight, his body was trying to slump at the knees, but the ropes wouldn't allow it. And there was my insane brother standing behind Remy and wielding a rawhide whip with a worn leather handle. Even from a distance, I could see the deep, long gashes he had cut into Remy's arms and back, with at least fifteen of our cousins and friends standing around cheering him on. You'd have thought it was a tailgate party for the New Orleans Saints the way they were carrying on.  
  
Pushing and shoving my way through the throng of them cowards and up behind Julien, I grabbed his forearm as he was about to come down hard on Remy again. All the kin folk started jeering and hooting as I yelled at him to stop; they got louder when he pushed me down and threatened to give me some of the same he was dishing out to Remy. "Get her out of here before I give her a piece of what her freak boyfriend is getting!" he told cousin Jacques- Pierre. "She's asking for it, shaming the family by having anything to do with this thieving trash." I glared at J-P like I'd kill him if he was crazy enough to touch me, and he knew I'd make good on it, too, so he backed off. Over my head, I heard the crack of the whip and knew that it had found Remy's shredded back again.  
  
Jumping forward, I threw my legs out and connected with the back of Julien's knees, causing his weight to shift and force him backwards. He lost his balance and fell to the ground; that's when I got him. The cousins backed away from us as I straddled Julien, my knife hovering just above his heart. "I swear on Gran'mama Clothilde's crypt that if you ever put your hands on Remy again, I'll plant this knife so deep into you that we'll see daylight coming out the other side, ya hear?!" Julien just laughed in my face, loud and long. "You can just bet that I'll keep that promise of yours, little sister, but the hole will be through the heart of that stinking little thief you've thrown your easy virtue away on. Now get off of me; it's over...for now. Jules! Jacques-Pierre! Gris Gris! We go!"  
  
I let him rise and watched as Julien and the assembled slobs either walked away or jumped on their cycles and rode off down the road, their spinning wheels tossing dust and pebbles into the air as they did. Julien turned toward Remy and spit out a final warning to him. "I let you live today only for the pleasure of ripping you apart later, thief! I find you on Assassins' turf again, the final beat of your filthy heart will be in my hand. Remember that!"  
  
Allowing Julien to just walk away tore me apart, but I had to let him leave for Remy's sake because I could see that he was bleeding badly and getting weaker by the second. Once all of the Assassins had left, I went to Remy's side and cut the rope away from his wrists, then began to cut away at the ropes binding him to the tree trunk. As I hacked away at the one twisted around and through his legs, I saw a faint pink light above my head and heard the higher rope sizzling. It was comforting to know that Remy was coherent enough to use his powers. "Pity you couldn't manage that for getting yourself loose, before they'd done this to you," I told him, like the poor thing needed reminding about his sometimey explosive skills. Remy's head tilted back to look at me through them sore, squinted eyes, and then he told me, "I could have gotten free, chere, but I didn't want to do it that way." Ticked off more than a titch, I stood up and stared at him, mystified by his statement. "What do you mean you could have gotten free?! Your hands was tied behind you, stupid. You don't have to play the hero with me, Remy; you know that. Ain't no shame in being beaten when it weren't a fair fight---sixteen against one and every one of them a mad dog." Imagine him trying to show off to his best friend. I'd said the wrong thing to him...again, and I was sorry the minute I did.  
  
Remy sunk to the moist grass below the tree once the ropes gave way, his knees sagging and then crumbling beneath him. Rubbing his wrists, he carefully leaned back against the trunk, struggling to find a patch of skin which hadn't been torn away to support his weight on. "I didn't need my hands to get free, gal," he sighed, wincing in pain as he touched bruises on his arms. "I found out by accident one day that I could get hold of my powers in other ways. My face was close up against the tree; I could have pushed my power out through my tongue, you know---put it up against the bark to blow it apart, yeah. It would have taken more effort than I've ever used before, but I'm figuring I could've managed it. Didn't do it on account of it would have destroyed this poor old tree. It's been here for hundreds and hundreds of years; got birds and squirrels living in it, too, yeah. Ain't right for me to destroy her just 'cause I was dumb enough to be caught by your kinfolk while walking down the road. 'Sides, they wouldn't have known I was here if that wrapping cloth hadn't blown up in my hand back there; that's my fault, too. Better for me to take the beating and learn me a lesson from it. 'Sides, I would have killed everyone within a mile if I'd blown up the tree, more than likely, not to mention blowing up your pretty house, too. I would never do that to you, chere, especially not on your special day, no. May be nothing but a swamp rat with no home training, but I got some manners, me."  
  
I left Remy and ran back to the house to call his people at his Papa's restaurant to come and get him, him being too weak and in pain to walk all the way back to the rowboat he used to get to my end of the bayou. Of course, I blocked my caller identification when I called, but I'm sure Remy's big brother, Henri, knew who it was on the other end of that phone line. Explaining to him only that Remy was injured badly and needed him, I made sure he understood to be careful coming after him, being that the Assassins would be watching. After I hung up, I went back to getting myself ready for the ball; I was late enough as it was, what with all that happened today. Couldn't help but think of Remy out there waiting for help, but I just couldn't do anything more for him. When Andre'-Michel come to get me later, I took a good look out by the tree to make sure that I didn't see Remy out there, but he was gone by that time. I had just hoped that Henri had gotten to him before anyone else came up on him. That's all he would have needed---more trouble when he was in no shape to protect himself- --the poor thing.  
  
I'm too tired now to write down all that happened at the Cotillion; didn't think writing all of this would take so long. Got to get me some sleep, so I'll write about that tomorrow. All I can say now is that even though I had lots of the boys fussing all over me and made the other girls pretty darn jealous, in the back of my mind I could only see Remy. He was as real as day in my mind's eye, just as if he was standing out in the cold, nose pressed up to the frosted windows, wishing with all of his heart that he could be part of the grandeur of it all...wishing it was he who was dancing with me. How I wish it had been Remy, even for just one dance. But it can't ever be; he's always going to be on the outside looking in, no matter where he goes in the world.  
  
'Night for now, Diary. I'll tell you about the ball tomorrow! Meanwhile, here's my tussy mussy flower arrangement I wore tonight for safekeeping... 


	3. Stolen Moments pt 3

Stolen Moments pt 3  
  
STOLEN MOMENTS  
  
by Daria  
  
[Marvel disclosure: All X-Men characters are the property of Marvel Comics; all rights reserved. This is a work of fan-fiction. No permission was granted to use these characters. This story may not be reprinted or published without written permission of the author and may not be used for profit of any kind.]  
  
July 17, 2001  
  
My poor Diary! Seems I only bother with you when something major has happened...and something major has happened. I just don't understand why it had to happen the way it did, but it fits with everything else here, I suppose. Happy Bastille Day. Oh yeah, it's my wedding day to boot. You'd figure that a girl on her wedding evening would have something more romantic to do, instead of writing in a diary, but...well, you'll soon understand.  
  
After all I've told you about me and Remy, I know you'd find it hard to believe, but our folks consented for us to be married a few weeks back. I've had mixed feelings about it ever since it was decided on, even though it's the one thing that I've always thought that I wanted. It was Remy's papa, Jean-Luc, who has pushed for it. Seems he's been trying to find a way to unite the Guilds and stop the hatred and killings and all; he figured that an arranged marriage between the key families would do it. My Gran'pere didn't want to go along with it, really; he didn't care what happened to the Thieves one way or t'other, but he's always wanted to get his hands on their fabled Elixir Of Long Life. Best I can put it together, he's figured that if he allows for a union of the Guilds, he might eventually get hold of the Elixir and live well into the next century---the kind of existence the Thieves have. That's all I need...another seventy years of Gran'pere running my life until I croak! Mon dieu!  
  
Remy didn't want to marry right now either, and especially not by force; besides, we're only eighteen and haven't even had a chance to live yet. He loves me and I love him, but we've been worried about what being forced to marry is going to do to our friendship. Ain't like we had a choice either way; once it was decided that we would marry, we were trapped. Gran'pere fought hard for me to marry one of the other boys from the Thieves Guild, but the pickings were slim. Remy's older brother Henri had already married that trampy-looking Mercy gal, and besides, who knows how old he is anyway? Him and that bald head of his...pah! What with that elixir of theirs, any of those Thieves could be over one hundred years old! Gross out---ain't marrying no old man, no! There was his younger brother, Bobby, who was handsome and clever, but he was wild and stupid as well; he took off for parts unknown out of jealousy over his adopted brother. Probably dead somewhere. Good. Then there's Remy's cousin, Emil Lapin; he ain't bad- looking, but he's no Remy neither. There's Theoren Marceaux, another cousin who's as tall as Remy but nowhere near as slim or good-looking. Had him a cute younger brother name of Etienne, but he died a while back; too bad, too, 'cause he was a pretty blonde boy with dreamy blue eyes. They got another cousin name of Pierre who is sort of nice-looking, but he's got a temper and Remy says he's always been pretty nasty to him. Frankly, most of them Thieves treat Remy pretty shabbily; they put up with him to please the Patriarch, but Remy says that they show their true colors when Papa LeBeau isn't around. The Guild "brothers" take advantage of the fact that Remy won't complain to his papa about them so as to keep the peace, but it's a shame the way they shun him and shut him out at family gatherings. I'm still thinking about offing most of them later on when I get the chance; I'm sure Gran'pere is doing the same, despite the truce. "Talk peace but prepare for war," as the saying goes.  
  
Even though we got pushed into this marriage, Remy wanted to do things to make it nice for me, so he invited me out to dinner one night right after the arrangement was made. Flowers, candle light, Cajun waltz melodies and sweet talk...he didn't miss a beat, that boy. And the ring he gave me; that's really something else! It belonged to Jean-Luc's mother, Felice, he said; his papa had saved her engagement and wedding rings for Remy to give to me. I thought for a moment that it was strange that he'd given it to his adopted son and not to his real, eldest son Henri to give to his wife, but Remy said that Henri had used his own departed mother's rings to wed Mercy. I hear tell that old Jacques LeBeau, while having a roving eye for the pretty Creole gals, was real good to his wife and placated her with jewels, and my engagement ring proves it. This ring has got enough karats to make a rabbit go berserk, and I hear tell that the wedding ring is even better. What that tramp Mercy knows about diamonds could fit into the bottom of a thimble and still leave lots of room for tea, so I'm thinking I got the better deal out of it either way. Rings or no rings, though, I definitely got the better of the LeBeau boys, no question about it.  
  
Two days ago, Remy took me into town and we had a nice long talk. He'd been a bit distant and elusive since the bands of marriage were announced during Mass a few weeks ago, almost like he didn't want to be around me too much before we were going to be stuck that way until death do us part. If Storyville, New Orleans' red light district, hadn't fallen victim to the Vice Squad, my bet would be that Remy had been spending his final weeks of bachelorhood sewing his wild oats. That's my Remy: kissed by the angels but cursed with a streak in him that's the touch of the Devil himself.  
  
"How many babies we gonna have, chere?" he'd asked me, holding my hand just as tenderly as you please. "I was thinking about six or seven of 'em, me!" he declared, grinning from ear to ear. I snatched my hand back as fast as I could, reeling from the shock of that announcement! "You best start figuring on how you gonna have them babies your OWN self!" I told him. He looked at me, a face full of confusion. "Maybe them nuns ain't told you this, Belle, but it don't work that way, darlin'!" he giggled, shyly batting those long, dark eyelashes of his. "You birth 'em, then I kiss 'em and spoil 'em; that's how it goes. Been the same way since the dawn of creation, I 'xpect." I just rolled my eyes. "You can do a lot of stuff that normal human boys can't do, mon cher," I reminded him. "Maybe you can do reproductive stuff you ain't supposed to do as well, like them male seahorses. Don't make me no nevermind neither way, 'cause if you think I'm stretching myself out just to have a houseful of little knotheads like you...? Think again, boy!" "You wound me, chere!" he cried. "We'll let nature take its course and see what happens, neh? I'd sure be happy spoiling a pretty little girl with dimples and long blonde curls like her mama, or chasing around the park with a pack of spunky li'l boys. I really want to be a papa, Belle. It would give me the chance to have a real family, like I never had for myself. I'd finally be part of something instead of being on the outside of it all."  
  
After that exchange, Remy held me tight for a long time without another word. It was as if his arms could shut out the whole world and just leave us two to get on with our lives, without the needs of the families looming over us. If I had known then that it would be the last time we'd be together like that, I would have tried my damnest to make it last forever, just as Remy tried to do. Maybe, deep in his heart, he knew we'd never have a moment to ourselves like that again.  
  
On my final night as a single woman, I had a house filled to the rafters with Boudreaux, Pajauds, Thierrys, Broussards, Breaux, Comeaux et Doucets eating all the oyster loaf, Jambalaya, Cajun Stew, Dirty Rice, boiled shrimp and crawfish they could lay their ravenous mitts on during the course of the evening. As I was to find out, Remy spent his last night of freedom over to Tante Mattie's house in Slidell being forced to pray the Rosary and help her hem a skirt for the church's altar, Mattie being the one person both Guilds trust to keep the peace and all of our secrets, as well as being our spiritual conscience. She's also been the closest thing to a mother that Remy and I have ever known. Those two simply adore each other, so Remy is mighty patient with her, even when she pushes him into doing things he'd normally scoff at. Them lousy Thieves couldn't bring themselves to throw a stag party for Remy, so rather than be forced to pretend to be happy for him it was decided that it was best to have Mattie keep an eye on him...lest he decide to do a last minute runner to avoid the preacher's noose and, in the process, destroy the fragile peace pact.  
  
This morning my big house was full of nothing but women; it felt...weird! I'm the woman around here; I have been since I was knee high to a duck. All the fussing and primping and hair-curling and perfuming---it just felt strange, yeah. I'm used to being the tomboy in a house surrounded by men...noisy, beer-swilling, rowdy, trouble-making men. Polite giggling, fluttering eyelashes and rouge just ain't my style, but I tried to be polite as my aunties, cousins and friends flitted around me like steel- plated butterflies, all elbows and painted fingernails and high-heels. All the time I wished that me and Remy could have just run off to Atlantic City or Las Vegas like other young folks in love, but the families wouldn't have stood for it. Everything had to be done according to ancient traditions. Hang tradition---I would have been happy marrying Remy on a riverboat cruise down the Mississippi and never coming back here. Ever.  
  
Two petticoats, one hoop skirt, a bustle, a corset, a bustier, six yards of lace and organza and a ton of ribbons, pearls and sequins later, I was trussed up like a holiday pig and ready to walk down the center aisle of St. Martin Of Tours parish church. The organist was playing "I Love You Truly" slightly out of key here and there; poor little Mrs. Pajaud's eyesight ain't what it used to be, and neither are her arthritis-ridden fingers. The aunties and cousins were fussing around me like bees buzzing in a jar; I had to keep checking to make sure I wasn't fodder for a beehive, what with all the orange blossoms in my wedding bouquet and everywhere else. All the noise and fuss was grating on my one nerve because all I wanted was to be with Remy. I'd been hoping that he'd come to my window last night like he used to, just so that we could talk and he could assure me that everything would be all right, but he honored the superstition about not seeing the bride before the wedding. Fine time for him to suddenly become conventional.  
  
Once I'd shooed off my helpers, I took Gran'pere's arm inside the doors and looked ahead down the aisle to where Remy was standing. Gran'pere looked at me wistfully, but his face tightened when he saw me goo-goo eying Remy. "I didn't want to give that boy your hand, petite fille," he sighed, "...but then, he's already had everything else, hasn't he? And don't deny it!" I was so surprised that I didn't have time to think up a denial! How did he know that Remy and I had been...that we'd...hmmmmm. Julien. Is there anywhere I can go without that bastard spying on me? I simply shrugged my grandfather's remark off and played stupid, choosing to examine the faces I could see inside the church. It was sure better than remaining under his watchful eye as he viewed me squirming. Finally, the wedding march began and Gran'pere took my arm to lead me inside, all to leave my girlhood giddiness behind for a life of uncertainty with a boy thief who possesses volatile, otherworldly powers. At the hand off, Gran'pere stared down his nose at Remy, visually threatening him to do right by me. Remy answered him by taking my hand as he stared him right back, defiantly proud, his full lips mouthing the simple phrase, "Elle est mon coeur."** Gran'pere's eyes fell to the floor in defeat at Remy's words of devotion; he shifted quietly behind me and out of my view. As Jean-Luc beamed with pride, Remy and I spoke our vows and became husband and wife. I could almost hear the icicles piling up in Hell over the sound of Gran'pere's teeth grinding.  
  
Our wedding reception was a beautiful affair held in the Knights Of Peter Claver Hall which is on the property adjoining the church. The Knights acted as the honor guard at our wedding because the LeBeau men have been members for decades. To me, it's just a bunch of old coots dressed like Buffalo Soldiers, but they do good works in the community...plus their meetings are a good excuse to blow off the wives once a week. Several of the Black Chiefs of The Mardi Gras Indians were in attendance as well, on account of some of them are friends or relatives of Tante Mattie's, one is married to Jean-Luc's niece, Marie-Laure, and they all know and love Remy, who'd always loved to sit at their feet and listen to their stories for hours at a time. Add in all of the LeBeaus, Thibodeaux, Heberts, Georges, Dougets, Lapins and any of Remy's kin I missed and we had one packed meeting hall. I have to admit that it was fun seeing all of the different faces, colors and, in some cases, costumes that those in attendance wore; it was a fascinating mixture of so many of the cultures that make Louisiana unique. The one face which never appeared in the crowd? My brother Julien's. It hurt me that he couldn't bury the hatchet and wish me luck, but I supposed that he was off sulking somewhere plotting against the peace pact. I wish I'd been wrong.  
  
For the Bride's Dance, the band played a valse mignon called "La Valse De Mon Vieux," a pretty little waltz written by an elderly gentleman to his wife of 35 years. I danced with my dear Gran'pere, who seemed to be trembling with nerves over losing me; I've never seen him close to tears before in my life. It was then that I knew how hard all of this had been on him: losing me to the LeBeau clan and losing control over the war between the Guilds at the same time. It was a hard day for him all around, but bless him, he tried so hard to be supportive of me. Today I learned how strong and honorable a man he could be and I've never been more proud of him.  
  
As Jean-Luc stepped forward and asked to cut into our dance, Gran'pere bowed politely to him and put our hands together. At that moment, I finally felt the impact of our families coming together, an event that would have seemed impossible just a few months before. I saw Remy smiling with his hand over his heart at the sight of his new wife and his father waltzing together. For his part, Jean-Luc held me as tenderly as if I were a precious porcelain doll; he smiled down at me with the love of a proud father made happy by the addition of another daughter to his family. As the waltz ended, Jean-Luc beckoned Remy to join us out on the dance floor, and he strode over without hesitation...after acrobatically leaping over the wedding party table. You can take the boy out of the bayou, but you can't take the bayou out of the boy. I remember thinking just then that it was going to be easier to housetrain a puppy than to housetrain Jean-Luc's rough-and-tumble boy.  
  
Remy bowed to both of our fathers and then took my hand in his own. While Jean-Luc signaled the band to play, Remy and I had already begun a dance to the music in our hearts. He was so handsome and gallant in his antique dress suit and sash; his face was full of light, as if being lit by a heavenly glow. He held me gently against his chest, so full of pride and delight that his sweet, compassionate heart was nearly pounding out a beat to rival the frattoir and drums of the band. I pressed my head against his chest for a moment, and as I looked beyond us I could see the reflections of the crystals on my tiara shimmering like tiny, glowing angels against our wedding guests who stood cheering and smiling around us as they watched us dance. Remy marveled at the reflection of the tiara as well; he then leaned down to kiss me in an embrace so full of zest that it made me swoon. I backed up slightly to catch my breath and to look into Remy's eyes; those tortured windows to his soul had never looked so filled with joy or so satisfied. Any hesitation or fear of a commitment to this marriage was gone; there was only contentment reflected in them. I embraced my old friend and new husband again as the scent of his cologne made me giddy with its sensuous aroma. The world was a perfect place for that moment, and just then I felt as if I were floating on a cloud, viewing this heavenly scene from on high. A moment later, that view changed and became frozen in time.  
  
A thud. A gasp. A gurgling sound. The room suddenly went hushed. Someone screamed. I think it might have been my scream, but I'm not sure. I thought it had caught in my throat, the sudden fear choking me silent. Then I saw my face reflected in Remy's eyes as they opened wide with confusion; they pleaded with me to tell them what had happened wasn't true. Over the rise of the other noises surrounding us, Remy's pained voice called to me in a whisper, "Belle...?" just as he dropped to his knees. It was then that I saw it: the arrow. Its shaft and feather flights protruded from Remy's back, a small pool of blood spreading slowly across the circle of clothing pinned against his skin where the arrow had entered. Over the sounds of screeching and crying, the booming voice of my brother cackled from the entrance way to the hall as he waved his hands above his head, one in which rested his spent bow. "Remy LeBeau, I send you back to Hell, thief! Death to the Thieves and to the pact!" With a roar of car and motorcycle engines, Julien and his accomplices were gone in a flash as the hall took on a deadly silence.  
  
Jean-Luc and Henri ran to us as I bent down over Remy. Following Julien's pronouncement, he had collapsed onto his side on the floor, a single, icy tear running down his cheek. Brushing Remy's hair out of his haunted eyes, I tried to find words to encourage him, but I could barely manage more than scattered pleas for help to those around us. More than anything, I wanted someone to tell me that this wasn't true, that none of this was happening and that Remy and I were still dancing, kissing and holding each other close. And Remy? I realized just then that he was still holding my hand to comfort me, more concerned for my security than his own. Placing my hand into his father's, he squeaked out, "Take care of Belle, Papa," in a raspy voice. "Take her away and don't let her see this."  
  
Jean-Luc nodded sadly and tried to guide me away, but I waved him off. No way was I leaving my loving husband's side with him in that condition. I grabbed the pillow on which the wedding bands had rested, placing it under Remy's head, and as I did I saw a shadow fall across our faces. When I looked above us, I recognized the source of that looming darkness: Gran'pere. For the first time in my life, the sight of him sickened me. He had raised me and Julien to hate---to hate the Thieves and anyone who stood in our way. The hatred he'd fostered had brought us to this horrible moment in time, and Remy and I were left to pay the price for nearly three hundred years of strife between the Guilds. I'd like to believe that in that moment even Gran'pere realized that the cost was far too dear.  
  
By then, Tante Mattie, a healer renowned for her curative abilities, was already trying to make Remy comfortable, keeping him calm as Jean-Luc urged our guests to stand back to give Remy room to breathe. Henri and some of the cousins carried Remy ever-so-carefully to a nearby table which had been cleared for them. Mattie instructed them on how to handle the arrow from the shaft to end, just as I saw Henri trying to sever the lodestone which had forced its way through Remy's chest and come to rest where it had punctured a hole through his shirt. It was then that I matched the place where it had exited his body to the thud I'd felt against my shoulder as we were dancing. Reaching up, I touched that area near my collar bone and felt a nick which had dribbled a small stream of blood onto my corsage and dress. It was a gruesome vision of blood red against the purity of my antique white gown and orange blossom corsage. Before we'd even spent a night as man and wife, Remy's blood had mixed with mine in the most cruel way possible.  
  
I've been back here in my room for hours now, tears filling my eyes every time I think back to these events of the day. Tante Mattie said it would be touch and go with Remy for a few days; he was feverish and pale when they finally forced me to leave him late tonight. Gran'pere brought me back home and begged me to try to get some sleep, but, as you can see, I can't get no rest. Whenever I close my eyes, I see that look of horror on Remy's face as his eyes searched mine for an answer to what had happened. How can I sleep knowing that he's suffering, all because of my family? Gran'pere posted guards around the house to ward off any trouble tonight. He ain't worried about the Thieves retaliating; Jean-Luc promised to keep them in line in honor of the pact. Gran'pere is worried about Julien coming back to crow about his dirty deed and to seek revenge on him for siding with the Thieves. He don't need to worry, no, because if Julien comes anywhere near this house, he'll have Bella Donna LeBeau to reckon with. My brother won't live long enough to spit if he sets one foot on this property again, as God is my witness.  
  
This has been a long entry, I know, Diary, and I'm going to close now. The tears are flowing again; I feel as if they'll never stop. Until I return, you please to take care of my orange blossom and lace corsage. I wish for anything that I could change what happened today, just as I wish that this pretty little ribbon hadn't been stained with blood. It will forever be a reminder of the wrong that was done to Remy and of my perfect day that turned into my worst nightmare. 


	4. Stolen Moments pt 4

July 19  
  
I'm writing this entry with a heavy, angry heart, Diary. A woman shouldn't be deprived of her loving husband on her wedding night. She shouldn't have to sit and cry while her young cher lies suffering from a mortal wound, feverish and pained. She shouldn't have to choose between the love of her own family and the romance of a lifetime, between her beau and her brother, between a vow to honor and obey and the honor of her Guild. I've had to do all of these things and more since the moment I answered "I do" to the question "Bella Donna Marie Antoinette, you take dis man, Remy Andre Francois Luc St. Jean de Baptiste, to you'self to be his lawful wedded wife, haaaanh?" I should have known things would go wrong with Jean-Luc's crazy cousin, Father Francis De La Salle, performing the ceremony, his tongue just as purple with the juice of the vine as a morning glory at sunrise. 'Tween him slurring the sacred words and the specter of my insane brother hanging over the proceedings, Remy and I didn't have a chance in the hot place of getting through our wedding day in one piece. We spent what should have been our lusty, romantic honeymoon nursing the hole in his chest left by Julien's hateful arrow. If I'd known then about the trials which awaited us, I would have settled for the arrow's damage and been glad that it was the worst of it.  
  
Tante Mattie sat and prayed over Remy for hours that night; I really don't know how she managed to stay so focused. Every time he moaned or groaned, she squeezed his hand and encouraged him to do the same to her, as if she could absorb his pain through her touch. Mercifully, after several hours of agony, the lights dimmed behind those burning red eyes and Remy nodded off into unconsciousness. Tantie prayed even more feverishly, rocking in her chair as she caressed Remy's hand in one of her own and her rosary beads in the other. This was painful to watch, and, sensing this, Jean-Luc came for me and forced me to take sleep in an adjoining bedroom. It was the only time I allowed the Thieves to separate me from my husband while in the same house; the next night we would stay together and consumate our marriage.  
  
Yesterday morning, I was awakened by the buzzing of voices which seemed to come from all corners of the rooms on the floor below me. Searching through the luggage I had planned to take to Paris with me, I grabbed my dressing gown and ran downstairs only to be met by the grimaces and suspicious stares of members of the LeBeau clan. Finally, an angry Henri stepped forward to me, holding out a tattered piece of paper before my face. "Them people of yours---they ain't gonna be happy until they got Remy's heart on a platter, uh?!" He pushed the paper into my palm, an icy blue glare punctuating his action. "Pah!" he shouted, throwing his hands into the air, as other members of the family slid past me on their way to the kitchen, their glances just as hateful as that of Remy's brother. Peeling open the note, I recognized the curly lettering as coming from my brother's own antique fountain pen, his words just as twisted and bizarre as the script which conveyed his message. "A duel to the death be thy challenge, foul adopted mongrel of Clan LeBeau, to be fought at the dawning of the sun of the morn, July 19, for the honor of the clan and the Guild Of Thieves. Prepare to meet a death best suited the scion of the gutters. Signed, Julien Boudreaux."  
  
There would be no peace for either Remy or myself that day. Tantie continued begging God for healing and guidance as she ministered Remy's soul and wound at the same time. Meanwhile, Jean-Luc, Henri and several of the senior Guild brothers fussed and argued around Remy's bed, with Henri trying to talk his father into allowing him to fight Julien in his little brother's place. As much as Jean-Luc appreciated Henri's zeal and concern, he knew that the Assassins would never accept such a trade. Julien had the Thieves exactly where he wanted them, with Remy weakened and wounded yet forced to try to defend himself against the anger, hate and deadly skill of the prince of the Assassins. Never mind that the Guild brothers, cowards that they are, had no problem with the idea of Julien finishing off what he'd begun; they were more than happy with having someone on the outside getting rid of Remy for them, rather than having to find a way to destroy him themselves. They detest the idea that Remy could possibly grow up to lead them to such a great degree that it wouldn't surprise me if they had taken out a contract with Julien just to rid themselves of him. Now that I write this...it makes more and more sense, that is, if I didn't know that Julien didn't need urging from anyone to attempt to kill Remy. His hate for my love of Remy runs so deep that it swims in his bloodstream. It's what keeps him...alive.  
  
Bandaged and brooding, Remy rose long before dawn this morning, his gaunt, chiseled frame revealed in the silver light of the moon. He hadn't truly slept through the night before, his heart and mind racing each other in fits of worry, hour after hour. Ever considerate, he slid as quietly as possible out of our bed, holding his left arm and its sling tightly against his body as he did. I watched him flinch at the sound of the creaking floorboards, then saw the shudder which took him as he felt the inevitable pain throughout his body that resulted from the reflex shrugging of his wounded shoulder. Poor thing, and all because he didn't want to disturb me. I could have giggled at the sight of his cute little naked backside had it been any other situation, but not this. He was scared and hurting, afraid for his life, worried about our future together and horrified that he'd have to kill my brother or die trying. And me...? I knew that by the end of the day I'd either be a widow mourning her lost love or a sister grieving the death of her brother and an Assassin seeking vengeance for his demise. I didn't wish to be any of the above, but there seemed to be no way out.  
  
Fearing the worst for him because of his injury, I tried to persuade Remy to run---to flee Louisiana and to take me with him---but he knew better. He led me to the bedroom window and motioned to me to cautiously look downstairs at the numerous members of the Guild Of Thieves milling around the kitchen door and the garden gate. "They won't let me leave, chere," Remy sighed, shaking his head, "which is why they made us stay here in Papa's house under lock and key. If I don't uphold the honor of the Guild, they'll kill me where I stand and you along with me, Belle. I can't let that happen. If anything happens to me, Papa and Henri, they'll look after you, darlin'. But here, take these..." In my hand he placed a set of ice cold keys hung on a "University Of Louisiana, Lafayette" keychain which, like Remy's eyes, glowed in the darkness of the room. "It was my surprise, my wedding gift to you, Belle: a pretty little house in the Garden District with roses all over the backyard and a moon gate on the side for luck. When this is all over, we'll go open it up and be happy there raising fat little Cajun babies. We'll have a crawfish boil every Bastille Day for our anniversary, too, and have all the relatives over by the dozens. It'll be our dream home, and it's waiting for us, chere. Now go back to sleep, petite; ain't nothing we can do now but pray, yeah."  
  
In the hour before dawn, my husband was surrounded by the men of the LeBeau clan, with them instructing him on how to handle himself at the site of the duel. Word had been sent to the Assassins that the weapon of choice would be swords, an option which left both duelists relatively equal, given their high level of skill. Of course, Julien had a clear psychological and physical edge, having inflicted the near-mortal wound Remy nursed on his left side. Even worse, I know he was relying on the fact that Remy wouldn't willingly kill his wife's own brother. The cards were stacked against Remy all the way 'round...and he knew it.  
  
I wanted to be at the duel; why, I'm not sure, because I would have been more of a liability than a help to both Julien and Remy. The last thing Remy needed was to be distracted by me, thus giving Julien a bigger edge, and Julien didn't need the sight of me hugging and kissing Remy for luck to spur on his hatred. Jean-Luc refused to let me attend, ordering Henri to drive me to my Gran'pere's home for safekeeping, and Gran'pere agreed to make sure that I didn't leave. I was locked up in my room with Assassins members guarding my bedroom door, the nearby windows and the front and back doors. All I could do is sit and watch the sunrise as someone I loved died.  
  
An hour after the sun rose and lit up the bayou, Cousin Alphonse's pickup truck pulled up to the front of the house like a bat out of Hell. There was a swarm of activity like nothing I've ever seen, with cousins running back and forth from the truck to the house. Eventually, Cousin Jean-Pierre arrived in his delivery van and Gran'pere slowly left the passenger side of it. He was moving like the world rested on his shoulders, and his low-hung head pretty much told me what I didn't want to know. In fact, all of the cousins were dragging, so I knew what had happened. I knew then and there that some how, some way, Remy must have found a way to best Julien and I wasn't sure how to feel about that. For a moment, I was so glad at the thought that Remy might have survived that I was actually smiling; that was until I thought about the possibility of Julien being dead and what turmoil that would cause between the Guilds. No way would the Assassins settle for that as an outcome. I knew they'd be calling for Remy's blood as sure as I'm sitting here. Sometimes I really hate it when I'm right.  
  
By afternoon, all "H" was breaking loose in Bayou Teche, with the various members of the Assassins Guild calling for Remy's head, so I knew from what I was hearing that Remy had survived. Julien wasn't dead, but he was very near it, so I was finally allowed out of my room so that I could go downstairs to see him. Poor Tante Mattie had been enlisted to save Julien, but he was even beyond her curative abilities at that point; she'd recommended that he be taken to the nearest emergency ward, but Gran'pere refused. The trouble with belonging to ancient orders such as the Guilds who still carry on as if it's 1750 is that doctors and nurses and policemen of the modern age tend to ask far too many questions when confronted with wounds inflicted by a dagger made in the 15th Century or ones that were the results of being shot by a 19th Century single shooter or an 18th Century muscat. Gris Gris, Gran'pere's version of a "voodoo priest," said that he might be able to find an elixir to save Julien, but I stopped listening to him somewhere along the way. I was waiting for one of them to say something- --anything---about Remy.  
  
Tante Mattie made an effort to gather some of the family together for a Rosary around mid-afternoon, but the cousins weren't having it; a couple of them even blasphemed about God forsaking us seriously enough for Tantie to threatened to slap them. As they left the drawing room where Julien lay lingering on, I took Tantie aside to ask her what she knew about Remy's condition. We young'uns all think of her as an auntie, but for a number of us she's been the closest thing we've ever had to a mother, none more so than Remy, though. At least Julien and I remember our own mother; she didn't die until I was seven or eight. But Remy never knew either of his parents, or at least he sure doesn't remember them, so Tantie nicely filled that gap, being the loving, caring and nurturing woman that she is. She's tried hard to be as even-handed as humanly possible in her dealings between the Guilds, but everyone knows that her heart belongs to that poor little waif with the blood red eyes.  
  
"Remy took some nasty cuts from Julien's sword," Tantie told me, crossing herself as she did, "but the Holy Mother herself must have been interceding for him, darlin'. It was so hard for him having to fight with that wounded shoulder, but I bandaged it as best as I could first thing this morning and it seemed to hold up. He was bleeding pretty badly for a little while there, but I cared for him until I left to come back here with Julien after the duel. Sure hurt me to see the way the Thieves dragged Remy off, though, when it was all over; liked to wrench his shoulder right out of the socket, the way they was pulling and pushing on him..."  
  
I couldn't imagine what she was talking about. Why would the Thieves treat Remy that way if he...if he won? When I asked her, Tantie stopped to look around us cautiously, checking for prying eyes and wide-open ears. "Your kin, they demanded a life for a life. They told the Thieves that if they didn't hand Remy over to them, they'd declare open warfare on all of the members. The Guild brothers...they voted to surrender Remy to your Grandfather to do with what he wanted; the Assassins wanted to execute him there and then. Only Jean-Luc and Henri stepped forward to save him; Jean- Luc was able to strike a bargain with your Grandfather, seeing as Julien wasn't actually dead. It was agreed that Remy would be held captive by the Thieves; they're gonna prevent that baby from escaping, just so they can hand him over to your kin should Julien...well, you know. Last I heard, they've thrown him in one of them jail cells in the foundation of the old courthouse; ain't nothing but a stone slab for the boy to sit and sleep on and a grating for him to piss in down in that ice cold dungeon. And the way they treated that child; you'd think he'd committed some crime by trying to protect his own life! He didn't call for this duel---Julien did---and Remy did everything he could not to kill your brother, chere. You must believe your old Tantie on that. All he wanted to do was protect himself as best he could, what with his shoulder still smarting from that arrow's wound. You know in your heart that if Remy had just wanted to end the duel and do in Julien, he could have used his powers to save himself. He didn't even use them when his own people were taunting him and all, tying him up and knocking him around and all. I ain't never been more ashamed to know them folks in my life. I got to forgive them because my Savior says I have to, but it's one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do. And if they hurt that child...well, honey, this is the Lord sending me a test of my faith. That's what it is, yeah."  
  
So there it was. Remy was condemned to death, whether he understood it or not, and his own people were going to deliver him. I could just see Gran'pere's glee at finally getting the chance to punish Remy for my friendship with him and for the boy having the gall-darned nerve to think he had a right to fight to save his own life. I talked to Tantie about me going to see Remy, but she advised me against trying, what with all the bad emotions stirring within both Guild camps. She was afraid that the Thieves would attack me if I came anywhere near where they held Remy, and I had to agree that she was right. There's was no way them hoodlums would let me see my husband.  
  
Late this evening, Cousin Alphonse came up to my room to tell me that Gran'pere had met with Jean-Luc LeBeau about Remy's fate and that a decision had been made. He wouldn't tell me just what that was and instead advised me to wait until Tante Mattie came back to tend to what was left of Julien. He was near death and being seen to downstairs still, like I cared. The cousins wanted me to come down and say a few words over him, but I refused. It's Julien who caused all of this misery; he can rot in Hell for all I care, but even the Devil himself wouldn't want that bastard down there. He don't need the competition; Julien would definitely try to take over the place.  
  
When I was finally able to corner Tantie late tonight, the poor ol' dear was worn out, happy to sit down in my rocking chair and put her tired feet up. Her careworn face reflected all of the sorrows of the last few days and she had a hard time holding back tears. I asked her how Remy was doing, but she delayed answering me for as long as she could. It was easy to notice that her eyes wouldn't meet mine; I don't suppose that she could bear it. Eventually, she waved me over to sit beside her; she held my hand for a long time before she could force out her words.  
  
"They are both gone, cherie---both Remy and Julien. Your kinfolk took Julien off somewhere; they wouldn't tell me more than that. The last time I saw him they were pulling a sheet up over his face. And Remy..." Sobbing, she stopped to wipe tears from her eyes with an overused handkerchief while, at the same time, a lump grew so large in my throat that it choked off my breath. "Gran'pere? Did he kill Remy? Tell me!" I know I shouldn't have screamed at her, but I couldn't stand it anymore. Squeezing my hand, she shook her head negatively. "Thanks be to God, no, darlin', but he sure wanted to," she answered, beating her hand against her heart. "But he might as well have cut the heart out of the boy just as soon as what he did agree to. The only thing he'd agree to, short of killing Remy, was to banish him-- -not just from the bayou or New Orleans but from the entire state. The Assassins say that he must leave and never return under pain of death, for him and all of the Thieves. If he ever comes home, it's open warfare on the lot of them. That put it on the Thieves to police Remy, and believe me, they done just that, chere. They give him until dawn to make himself scarce...or else they'd kill him long before the Assassins got to him. Jean- Luc agreed to the demand and told Remy that was the way it was gonna be. I like to die seeing the look on Remy's face when he heard that from his papa's mouth; the poor baby was so hurt and confused. He kept asking after you, sweetheart---asking how you was doing and begging to see you and all. I swear he was more worried for you than for himself, yeah. All he wants to do is see you, Bella Donna, but your kinfolk, they told him that they'd shoot him on sight if he came anywhere near you. The Thieves, they tried to tie him up, to drag him to a pick-up truck to drive off and get rid of him, and that's when...that's when he couldn't take no more, the poor child..."  
  
I was so numb by then that I didn't think that I could take no more, neither. Still, I had to know. "What did he do, Tantie?" I asked, my head in my hands. Her voice was so hesitant that I had to look up at her to make sure that she was still breathing. Tantie looked wild-eyed and frightened and she began wringing her hands like she was seeing a ghost as she recalled the events she had witnessed. "His powers, chere. They went wild. Remy went out of his mind. All the worry, the fear, the humiliation, the pain, being told he couldn't be with you ever again...it was all too much. All of the sudden, everything around us started sparking with that...that glow of his. The ropes around him...they ignited and fell off of him. He just stood there, his face full of rage and his eyes...oh my Lord, Jesus, his eyes. They was like two burning hot coals, like fire was leaping from them. He didn't even have to put his hands on things, like he does; he was blowing things apart with his mind. Trucks blew up just with a look from him, as well as the guns, knives...just everything. Then he just walked away without looking back at anyone. I wanted to go after him, to call him back, but Jean-Luc kept me from going to him; he said that having Remy leave was the only way to keep everyone safe. Them Thieves...they only ever wanted Remy for what they could get out of him and to take advantage of them powers of his, but the minute the boy needed them, they turned their backs on him and abandoned him to the streets again. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, dear; it breaks my heart." With that, she fell silent, preferring to sob into her handkerchief while patting my hand for comfort, rather than to continue to talk about the hole left in her heart by Remy's banishment.  
  
I've been sitting here for hours now as I write while keeping an ear out for sounds outside my window, but I haven't heard a peep out of the dogs or the guards stationed around the grounds. I had to believe that Remy would come for me to take me away with him, but it'll be dawn within a few minutes and there's been no sign of him. If he's not here by now, he'd be out of his mind to try. He's a dead man walking if he's anywhere south of the Louisiana state line, and Tantie said that Henri and Jean-Luc were to see to him getting away because they have to protect the Thieves.  
  
That no good Remy. How could he leave me behind? How could he not even try to come to get me? I'd give my life for him; he should know that after all of these years. I'd run to the ends of the Earth with him and live life on his terms, no matter how bad things got, no matter how bad people out there treat him. I've packed a suitcase and everything, just so I'd be ready to leave with him; I wasn't even gonna take all of my stuff. He's gotten on to the property so many times before; I can't believe that he would let my family's threats keep him away. That never bothered him before. I've got to face it: he's left me...left me to deal with the aftermath of this family feud. Gran'pere is so upset by Julien's demise that he looks to be near death himself, all his talk about an annulment being the only thing keeping him going. If he should die, that would leave me to be the matriarch of the Guild of Assassins. I'm only eighteen, but what kind of life is this? I have responsibilities better suited to an old woman, yet none of the joys the memories of which keep the old going strong. Here I am, a new bride, yet I don't know if my husband is alive or dead. I could be a widow for all I know, but I can't mourn for being angry. What I do know is that I'll never forgive Remy for taking off without me. I could kill him for leaving me here: slice his throat and not think a thing of it. If I ever get hold of him, that's exactly what I'll do, as soon as spit on him. I hope he roams the Earth and never finds peace, a home or friendship; he doesn't deserve it for abandoning those same things he could have had with me.  
  
Damn that thieving, faithless boy. He stole the most priceless item in my world: he stole my heart and ran away with it like a thief in the night. I'm left here holding the broken shards of a love that will never be. He had no faith in our love, so he took my heart and trashed all else. He's gotten away, too, but someday, as God is my witness, I'll make him pay the price all thieves must pay for their deceit. Damn him. Damn him to Hell.  
  
--------DB 


End file.
